Questions
by Hat as a Madder
Summary: Something inside me—something that was inside all of us."


**Author's Note: **This was an English extra-credit assignment, and I thought I'd post it on here. It earned a 100%, but that doesn't mean it's good; it just means it's grammatical. Oh, well, see what you think. (=

"Name?" I heard a brusque voice ask from what seemed like a mile away.

I shifted guiltily in my seat. I hadn't been paying attention. I'd spent too long away from the world of adult authority to be so easily brought back into society. Such average things were strange to me now. I found it difficult, almost, to wear the clean, warm clothing they had given me. It was too constricting, too difficult to move in.

"Boy, I asked your name," the voice interrupted my thoughts again. It was a deep, gravelly sort of the voice. The voice of a mature person, the kind of voice I hadn't heard since before we left. I found it hard to comprehend that the most natural of all things, an adult caring for me, seemed foreign.

"Ralph. Ralph Candon," I replied distractedly. With difficulty, I pulled myself away from the nightmarish thoughts of the island that seemed to be racing through my head ceaselessly of late. I had so many questions—questions I wasn't sure I wanted to ask.

"Ralph, eh? Do you know your address, Ralph? We're trying to locate families," the man informed me, looking bored and annoyed with his task. I tried to remember his name. He'd told me, earlier, but I couldn't recall. Captain Something? General Who? It didn't matter, really. I was going home!

I told the man my address, and he attempted to make small talk before seeing I was obviously grudging him every answer. I didn't want to talk, with him, at least. I needed to talk to Jack. I wanted to speak about the island. Most of all, I wanted to converse with Piggy, though I knew that was impossible.

I wanted to make sense of our stay on the island. I wanted to forget it, yet I couldn't. I wanted to go home, but I wanted to solve some problems first. I wanted so many things, things I'd never even thought of before the crash. I wanted to understand.

"Where are the other boys?" I inquired. The man was obviously taken aback by my starting a conversation.

"Over there," he said, gesturing at the door behind him. "Most of them, anyway; the little ones are in the nursery, but you don't want to see them, I assume."

"Thank you... Sir," I added, recalling the manners so sparingly used since the landing on the island. "Can I—may I—go?"

He gave a brief nod and turned to the redheaded secretary. It seems I was the last boy to be questioned. The secretary told me as much, in a caring, maternal manner I'd missed.

I steeled myself as I ambled over to the door. I hesitated a bit before I opened it, wondering if it was best to bring up the same issues that had cost Piggy and almost me our lives. I considered the consequences, however, of not discussing the matter and was filled with grim determination as I opened the door.

"Hi, Ralph," said Sam—or maybe Eric—as I entered the door.

"Hey, Ralph," chorused a few more voices. The majority of the biguns, apparently, held no grudge.

"Ralph," Jack said, acknowledging me with a curt nod of his head.

"Jack, I—we need to talk," I informed him. He bristled at the authority in my tone.

"What about?" he asked abruptly. I, as well, decided to forgo all evasiveness as I posed my question.

"Why did you hunt me? And why did you," I paused, gathering my thoughts. "Why did you kill Piggy?"

"I didn't kill Piggy!" he exclaimed, voice rising. "You two were the ones who came up to Castle Rock! I couldn't be bothered with dealing with you on top of being in charge of a tribe."

I said nothing, merely peering at Jack where he sat on one of the numerous benches in the room. I seated myself across from him, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I couldn't handle being chief on top of all that. I couldn't. Why, what else was I supposed to do?" he implored, though I could tell he was trying to convince himself and not me. "What else?"

"You could've thought. You could've thought things through, and not been so brutal. You killed Piggy, Jack," I told him, too angry to be considerate. "You killed him."

"So what if I did?" he questioned, indignation at my statement clouding his reverie; his old arrogance overshadowed the guilt.

"I don't know what. You tell me," I replied coolly.

His conceited manner instantly shifted to blustering. "You asked me! I don't know what to do now. It's in the past," he reminded me, content with his excuse.

"I know it's in the past. But why?" I pleaded, desperate for answers. Nothing made sense.

The other boys had stopped their chatter now and they turned to look at us with puzzled faces.

"Look at them," Jack said, noting this and pointing. "They all killed Simon. You did, too, Ralph; you and Piggy both."

"That's different!" I exclaimed. My vehement denials grew into rambling and incoherent sentences as I attempted to explain.

"It's no different at all, Ralph Candon," he interrupted superiorly, employing the use of my full name.

"It is different, Jack Merridew," I mocked. His face still held a superior expression, so I continued. "We were in a group and I was caught up in the excitement and I couldn't help it and everyone—it's different!"

"It's not, and you know it," he concluded. "You killed a man the same as I did."

"So did everyone else," I said, giving up the attempt to prove my innocence. My jaw clenched when I saw his smirk.

"So?" he said smugly. "So what if everyone else killed him? You were part of that everyone. It's in all of you."

"It's in all of us," I repeated dazedly.

I couldn't blame Jack. It was just as much my fault as his. I shouldn't have gone after him on the day Piggy died, but something inside me forced me to antagonize. Something inside me—something that was inside all of us. "It's in all of us," I said once more, reveling in my realization.

The beast, the monster, the evil—whatever you want to call it—was inside each and every one of us. You had to be vigilant. You had to be cautious in everything you did; otherwise, it would consume you. You had to be aware of yourself so that you wouldn't be taken over like we had been on the island. The intoxication of freedom had released the beast in all of us.

Jack looked at me in confusion. I was sure my face was blank, my eyes vacant. I couldn't bring myself to care—I was too lost in my thoughts.

I couldn't blame anyone unless I blamed myself as well. It was in all of us.


End file.
